


Overturn

by Harukami



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Aoba tops!!, Discussion of Rape, M/M, discussion of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba and Mink decide to experiment with overturning power -- not that it will fix everything, of course.</p><p>(I decided that after I swore I'd do Aoba tops fics for each of the pairings that I'd move on to the hardest one immediately. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overturn

They don't talk much about what happened before or, rather, Aoba doesn't. It's not that Mink _does_ , but rather that he only talks when Aoba starts the conversation and then he seems perfectly willing to answer whatever Aoba puts to him, calm and patient, as if he'd both waited for and expected it.

One day, Aoba asks him about it, about why he always waits for Aoba to bring things up, when he's obviously got things to say about it still.

Mink, sprawled back on his couch with half his breakfast eaten, pushes his plate away and tilts his head up with a sigh and pursed lips. He doesn't smoke any more, not since returning his ancestral pipe to his family's graves, as if he'd closed some doors to his past with that action, but old habits seem to die hard, and Aoba can tell from the curl of his finger and the way his lips briefly purse that in his heart, he's carrying his pipe and breathing smoke right now.

"Why?" Mink repeats just that, after a moment. "Because I still have power over you, and forcing you to talk about it when you're not ready is also a brutality."

A rush of emotion fills Aoba at that comment, his heart fluttering strangely in his chest, throat filled for a moment with a lump that he has to swallow back. Mink has been so kind, so careful; he smiles at him. "You don't have power over me any more, Mink. You've been so careful to treat me like an equal -- I know it. All right? We're fine now."

"Hah?" Mink tilts his head, looks at Aoba with a serious expression and a sharp amber eye. "Of course I still have power over you. You just felt grateful, didn't you?"

The comment stops Aoba in his tracks, halfway across the room to join Mink on the couch. He could still feel that gratitude filling him, slowly turning cold at Mink's words. "What-?"

"As long as you feel grateful for the barest of basic human decency, it's not like what I've done to you has gone away," Mink says. It's not smug, not sad, just a blunt plain comment, in blunt plain words, laying it out to be acknowledged. "...Listen, I don't think you pay much attention to your own reactions, and that worries me sometimes."

Aoba flushes. "I -- I pay plenty of attention!"

"You don't notice the moments you go pale, or stiffen up, or when your hands go sweaty," Mink says. "Or if you notice them, you pretend not to. ...It worries me."

"Well, sorry for worrying you," Aoba sulks, frantically searching his memory for those moments. It's true that he has strong reactions, he thinks, when Mink touches him, or if he complains about something, but they're lovers now; of course being touched by or disagreeing with his lover will cause a strong reaction.

Mink sits up a little straighter, then sighs, offers him an arm. "I don't mean to have you second guess yourself," he says, as Aoba finishes crossing the room, tucks himself in against Mink's big, warm form. Mink twists a little, presses a kiss to the top of Aoba's head. "I believe your choices are your own. I have no right to believe otherwise nor to act otherwise."

"Of course they're my own," Aoba mutters into Mink's chest.

"But choices are influenced by your environment and experiences," Mink says, and tilts his head back again. "It's basic human psychology."

Aoba's heart is pounding. It feels, somehow, like they're fighting, even though Mink's tone is still calm and measured and accepting. "I know that, already! We talked about that already. That's why you -- brutalized me! Because you needed to break me into a tool to use. But then you -- it's not like you still feel that way!"

"No," Mink says. There's a trace of bitter humor in his deep voice; Aoba wonders if he'd even pick it up if he wasn't pressed so close to hear every edge to that rumble. 

"...you came to want to protect me."

"Yeah. The worst situation for a user to be in, probably."

Aoba draws a breath to steady himself and pinches Mink's side. "What's the worst for situation for a tool, then?"

"Hah?" Mink sounds distracted as he glances back down at Aoba, eyes distant and a little darkened. "...Probably sadism. If the user's got no motivation other than an investment in the tool's destruction, there's no way out."

"Then at least we're not the worst case scenario," Aoba says.

Mink laughs, or at least, it sounds like a laugh. "Is that your blessing?"

"..." Aoba lets out a disgruntled noise. "I want to be here."

"I know. Have you told anyone about it?"

"Of course. I call home all the time, you know--"

"Not about this now. About what lead to it."

Aoba falls silent. He hasn't. Mink knows it. He never told Granny, his friends. Not even Ren, who had been there but asleep every time. Ren has probably guessed, but without Aoba bringing it up, Ren wouldn't either. Would just silently support him in whatever he chooses to do. "I--"

"Why not?"

It's said simply, a basic, blunt question, tossed out for him to deal with or not, as he sees fit. He could turn it aside, he sees, and wants to; wants to just protest and not think about it. His stomach's turning and he feels too cold and too hot at the same time. His hands have gone clammy. Now that it's been pointed out, he can't ignore it. His head throbs and he says, "Because they'd tell me to leave."

"Why?"

"Because what kind of idiot shacks up with his rapist, all right?!"

The words come out with a rush that makes him feel like he already vomited or something, hurting and burning on the way out and leaving a strange empty spot behind. He realizes, abruptly, that although he's thought the word before, he hasn't said it aloud. He hasn't heard how it sounds coming out of his own mouth. It's not like he hasn't acknowledged it. Mink raped him. Over and over until death seemed like a better escape. And here he was now. What kind of idiot -- but that same person refused to touch him until Aoba chose to be touched, refused to keep him at his side until Aoba chose to stay at his side, refused everything until Aoba chose it more clearly and obviously than could possibly be denied. His head hurts too much and his eyes are stinging and he doesn't realize tears are running down his face until he feels them start to cool and sucks in a shuddering breath and presses his face to Mink's side.

"Yeah," Mink says, finally, and drops a hand on Aoba's head with no pressure at all, not holding him there, just giving him a sense of warmth as he cries.

It takes a few minutes to get himself back under control, to cry that aching, feeling out until it's solidified into something more stable, and then he just mutters, "So I'm fucked up, okay?"

"Yeah. It's not your fault."

"I want to stay anyway."

"If you want that, I'll accept it," Mink says. His tone's still a little distant, and it stings.

"What if I wanted to leave?"

"If you wanted that, I'd accept it."

Aoba pushes back from him a little, draws a heavy breath, and says, "What do _you_ want from me?"

Mink considers him for a long moment. He looks tired, worn-out, but not like he intends to; it looks like the feelings have just pushed from the inside out past the stone face he wears when he's trying to hide his feelings. "I want our relationship not to be about what I want," he says, "after I trained you to give it to me."

There it is, then. There's the element that makes sense of everything. It isn't that Mink doesn't want this -- no, of course he wants it; has made Aoba part of his life, part of his identity. Mink had known the impact his actions took and that is why he took them; he still knows, and won't turn his face from that, Aoba thinks. It's a strangely lonely feeling, but probably not less so for Mink himself. "Will you answer my questions honestly if I ask? Rather than just telling you to tell me generally."

"Yeah."

"Do you want me?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Do you love me?"

It hangs in the air a moment, and Mink sighs, says, "Yes. I love you."

Aoba swallows past the strange feeling, and says, "Isn't it fine, then?"

"It's still pretty fucked up. What I feel is separate from what your reaction should be," Mink points out, bluntly. "You probably still need years of therapy."

"I'm fine, thank you," Aoba says, torn between sarcasm and laughter. "I don't think I ever not needed years of therapy and I've turned out okay."

"Haah."

He doesn't know what to ask next, falls into silence before just saying, pleadingly, "Mink..."

"When you wore me down," Mink says. "When you told me you would rather go die than not stay at my side. When you asked me to touch you. I asked you to take responsibility. For your actions. For making me lose the control that was keeping me from touching you again. What do you think I meant by that?"

"Huh?" To be honest, he hadn't thought about it much at the time beyond trying to convince Mink to accept him. "...If I regretted it, it was my own damn fault?"

"That's one form of responsibility," Mink agrees, a bitter smile curling his lips. "I want you to know you have power."

"What?"

"You have power over me. It's not in balance. It won't be. I'm physically powerful, which gives me the ability to accept or refuse anything, force or choose anything. And I don't think you'll forget it," Mink says. "You're not capable of forgetting it. But you hold power over me. I'd like to increase that. I'd like you to be aware of it. Since I can't remove my power over you, or your subconscious awareness of it, I would like you to be aware of your own power. And for you to use it, as you see fit. ...Honestly, you don't pay much attention."

Aoba huffs air between his lips. "Sorry I'm not some weirdo power-freak who's hyper-aware of psychological control conditions or something."

"It's probably for the best there's not two of us," Mink says, with that hint of humor again.

"Let's make love," Aoba says.

"Now?" Mink says, not arguing, just questioning. "You're not in the mood, are you?"

"I won't be if you keep talking like that," Aoba says. He puts a hand on Mink's broad chest, considers, says, "Give over to me. Let me do whatever to you."

"...If you want."

"What's that tone?"

"If you think it's something that'll make everything okay, it won't," Mink says. It's not a warning, not a threat. Just another acknowledgement. "But anything I have is yours."

"I know it's --" Aoba shook his head, shaking off the weird rush of nerves. "Let me tie you up."

"Bondage? An unexpectedly kinky proposition in the middle of a serious discussion."

"Shut up," Aoba groans, red-faced. He knows, knows it's kinky, but -- "I know it won't make 'everything' okay or whatever, but put yourself in a position where you have no physical power over me. If it's fundamentally an experience we've never had, then let's create that experience."

"Fine," Mink says.

***

They don't do it right away. The mood is weird and off and, besides, it's the middle of breakfast. They finish breakfast, Aoba does the dishes, Mink goes off to work in the woods and shop in the nearby town. He calls home, chats with Granny, tries not to feel weird about how normal their conversation is. He plays with Ren, considers confessing the situation to him, but he thinks Ren knows, and Ren has been avoiding saying anything until he brings it up, and the situation is too weird. Instead, they just chat a bit about this and that, and he curls up around Ren for a nap. 

He's finished preparing dinner when Mink comes home and tosses some shackles onto the couch. "Here," he says.

"Wow, you really got them." Aoba doesn't ask where, and honestly doesn't want to know, but they're big, tough chains, with wide shackles; they look like they were raided from an old-fashioned prison or something. 

Mink says, "If it's rope, I can probably get out."

"No matter how you look at it, you're too damn strong! Even shackles, didn't you break them before?" Mink had gone around with broken shackles hanging from him like the creepiest fashion statement.

"If you tie me on my front, it should be fine. On my back, I could gather enough muscle strength, probably."

Aoba almost fumbles his ladle. He's thought it before, but while he's relatively proud of his lean and strong physique, there's no comparison between the two of them. "Jeez..." But even thinking about it is a little much, and he leans on the counter, trying to ignore the flush of arousal washing through him.

"Heh." It's hard to say what part Mink finds funny. "Turn dinner down and cover it."

"I'm the one supposed to be ordering you around tonight--"

"I just don't want to burn the cabin down while I'm tied up."

Aoba closes his eyes and tries to will the flush out of his cheeks. " _Fair enough._ "

He does, and they go to the bedroom. Mink strips without hesitation, and although he at least isn't aroused at the first, he seems to start to harden under Aoba's long look over him, taking in every detail. He lets Aoba look for a few moments before lying down, stretching his long muscular limbs out.

"Thread the shackles under the bed," he says. "I won't be able to pull back against them very effectively."

"Ah -- yeah." Aoba's mouth is dry as he does so, clicks the shackles shut. They're only just long enough and leave Mink tied down spread-eagled, limbs fully extended, wrists and ankles enclosed. 

"Don't let me up until you're satisfied," Mink murmurs.

He puts the key on Mink's desk and turns to look at him again; It's a strange feeling, watching Mink tied down like that, muscles taut, face turned to the side and hair spilling all over. He looks vulnerable, which isn't a term that Aoba has ever once thought in conjunction with Mink; he looks completely open, and Aoba is fully, shockingly aware that at this point he could do anything and Mink couldn't stop him. Perhaps there's something to what Mink's been saying about his unconscious awareness of Mink's physical power, because seeing him without it is dizzying; there is a literal rush of blood to his head. His muscles are impressive, but useless, taut without anything to pull against, his balls just visible pressed to the bed past his ass, a trickle of sweat dripping down his spine. Some hair has caught in his mouth and he can't move to dislodge it; Aoba reaches over and does it for him.

At the same time, the rush turns to a sort of sympathy -- it doesn't feel quite like that, but it's close. Mink's making small sounds in the back of his throat which he doesn't seem quite aware of, as if breathing is difficult. Aoba is suddenly very aware of how little he knows about Mink's past between certain points, but there's no way that this isn't, at least, some kind of pressure. Mink's family was killed, captured for experimentation; he, too, was imprisoned. Aoba can't imagine what he went through, and doesn't try; just thinks to keep in mind that this feeling, being powerless, is one Mink _is_ familiar with.

He puts a hand on Mink's back. "Does it hurt?" he asks.

"No," Mink says, shortly, his eyes closed and face calm. "Do as you like."

It's weird, but he tries not to think about how weird it is, just traces out Mink's strong muscles under his hot skin. Each muscle seems to jump as Aoba runs his fingers over it, as if leaping into his touch, and his breath's coming faster. He's already hard, which helps push him past how weird this is, how strange and languid, how he feels like he's in a position he's never been in, in much more than simply a literal way. 

Mink makes another sound in his throat, a soft and deep _hn_ that Aoba can feel through his fingertips as much as hear, and he tries to stop thinking so hard, kisses Mink's throat, bites down carefully on his pulse. He feels Mink's neck tense and relax and the taste of Mink's sweat, strangely sweet, on his tongue, traces that flutter there and thinks _I could bite and he couldn't stop me_ and it's a strange and unnerving thought; he wouldn't do it, but he could, and Mink knows it, and that's stranger too.

Aoba pulls back suddenly, trying to recover himself in this strange place where his heart's pounding and his feeling of nervousness doesn't make sense to himself, pulling off his clothes hurriedly. He leans over Mink with a giddy sort of feeling, brushing his hips against Mink's hand, bracing himself against Mink's back. "Can you touch-?"

"Hn." Mink's eye slowly opens again, rolling to the side to watch Aoba, and his fingers twitch in their shackles, curl. He can't really get a grip from this angle, pressed back and under, but he can partially close his hand around Aoba's cock, and he shudders at the warmth and awkward pressure, moves into the touch. 

"Tell me this is okay...?"

The words come out without him really meaning for them to, slip past his tongue without seeming to hit his consciousness on the way; he barely understands he said them until they're out. 

Mink makes another soft sound, and then he seems to relax down against the bed as he sighs, some strange tension ebbing out of him. "You're doing fine."

"Mm," Aoba says, and pushes Mink's hair back from his face, leans down to kiss his mouth as well as he can from the side, suck up along his jaw, his throat, while Mink closes his eyes and groans.

The pressure from Mink's hand is good, is _nice_ , and it'd be easy to just sort of stop here, leave it at this, but it almost feels sillier to come this far and stop instead of carrying through, so he reaches over, grabs the wooden box that has the ointment, scoops some up on his fingers, presses it to Mink's mouth.

He doesn't have to tell Mink to lick or suck; he knows, opens his mouth, curls his broad tongue against and between Aoba's fingers, which makes his cock jump in the half-fist of Mink's hand. It's a kind of mild muscle relaxant, Mink had explained once when pressed, which is why it helps both orally and -- well, elsewhere. The herbal scent fills the room as Mink's tongue curls against his fingers and Aoba shudders hard, breathing it in.

He abruptly struggles against the urge to pull back now, unlock Mink, pretend this deliberate reversal of power never happened. It's strange, foreign. "Do you want--"

Mink's eye, closed while he worked on Aoba's fingers, slides open again with a slow, languid pull of his lids, and he looks up at Aoba with a calm patience, prepared and accepting. "Hah," he says, as Aoba's fingers slide from his mouth. "Do what you want. If you want to stop, stop."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No," Mink says, shortly, and slides his eyes closed again.

Aoba nods once, just repeating that word to himself not because of what it meant, but because of how Mink said it; calm and knowing, perfectly content, and just focuses on that sound, the reverberations of it through him, as he slides his hand back and down and presses a slick finger slowly into Mink.

It's a strange feeling, tight and hot and sucking pressure, the ring of muscle there grasping at his finger in a way he couldn't have imagined before feeling it. He thrusts it a few times, experimentally, and Mink shifts with a grunt.

"Ah -- does it hurt? Sorry--"

"No."

"You'd tell me if it did?"

A low, brief laugh. "Who would benefit if I didn't?"

It's a better answer than a yes, and Aoba shifts his finger, spreading lube around, and presses a second finger in next to the first. With his digits in like that, it's easier to imagine himself going forward with this than it was before, that weird tight heat pulling at him making him think of the same on his dick, and he shivers, reaches his free hand down to tighten Mink's hand on his cock. "Ah..."

"Getting you hot."

"Yeah," Aoba admits, red-faced. "It's -- well, it's supposed to, right?! So--"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Aoba agrees a third time, in just a rush of air, spreading and separating his fingers, feeling the resistance. Mink makes another low noise at that, not a protest, and Aoba shakes his head. "Is it fine-?"

"I'm not saying no," Mink says. 

"Say yes? Mink, come on..."

"Yes," Mink says. "You were going to make love to me, weren't you? Then do it."

Aoba lets out a slow, hoarse groan as he tugs his fingers out, drawn out him without really meaning to. "Ah, yeah, then..."

He shifts, positions himself behind and over Mink. It's an angle of Mink he really hasn't seen before, Mink's long, heavy, muscular body stretched out against the bed underneath him, his back thick and so built that he thinks they must form an absurd picture as he slips in behind him. He folds his hands against Mink's broad hips, guiding them up a little against the pressure of the manacles; there isn't room for much more than a shift, and Mink lets out a groan as his cock rubs against the blankets. He's hard, Aoba realizes, with a gratifying flutter that shoots through his stomach like electricity; Mink is hard from this much. He feels almost grateful for it, which makes him think back to earlier and laugh, a little self-deprecatingly.

And he pushes in.

The tension and pressure and heat is intense. He feels like he's going to white out as he moves the first time, from disbelief, pleasure, and another feeling he can't even identify leaving his heart pounding hard enough that it feels difficult to breathe around it. "Mink...!"

"Nnh--" Mink shifts back, chains clanking, the movement only just enough to push Aoba just slightly deeper into him. It doesn't seem, however he's thought of it before, like the sort of thing Mink would be into for its own sake, but he seems into it now, and that's enough to just make Aoba lose what grasp over control or thought he seemed to have before, forget how awkward and unusual this position is, and just pull at Mink's hips, thrust into him again and again.

Under him, Mink makes low, hoarse sounds, different in subtle ways from the ones Aoba thinks he's used to -- less tight, less careful, just sort of ripped from his throat as Aoba pounds into him. Sweat trickles into his eyes and he doesn't stop to wipe it away, just tosses his hair back from his face and keeps moving, hands rubbing and pulling at the strong muscles of Mink's hips, his thighs, his ass. 

Mink opens his mouth, head twisted to get more air, and it sounds almost like he's panting. It's hard to tell if he's close, or in pain, or just overcome, and Aoba doesn't feel in any state to discern it, just slides a hand under Mink's hips to grasp at his thick cock, not so much stroking it as just squeezing in time with his thrusts, letting the pounding of his hips jerk Mink into his grasp. His free arm, holding him up, trembles with effort, muscles aching, but he doesn't want to take the time to reposition, stop, do anything but this.

He moves, and moves, and orgasm hits him almost unexpectedly, wrenched through him, making him sort of cry, arm buckling as he plunges down and into Mink, rubbing his face against that broad, tense back. Mink makes an answering sound, choked and shocked, like he can feel Aoba coming inside him, and tightens down, presses back with that small awkward blocked movement, rocking with what little movement he can before letting out a strangled groan, slickness spreading through Aoba's fingers as Mink's cock twitches and spills in them.

Aoba can't move, can barely think, hardly has the muscle to lift himself off Mink, so he just lies there for a few moments, the taste of Mink's sweat on his mouth where his face is buried in the other man's back. Mink's still breathing hard, rough and torn _haa haa haa_ s that resonate through Aoba where they're pressed together. 

Finally, he recovers enough to roll himself off Mink, land in an awkward curl between his side and his stretched-out arm and leg. "Oh my god," he mutters, hands over his face, still trying to catch his breath.

Mink shifts slowly, draws a deep breath, and lets it out. "Aoba," he says.

He doesn't ask to be untied, and seems to just be waiting until Aoba decides to. It's a strange realization, through his post-orgasmic haze. He could just get up and do anything right now. Shut the door and go, and Mink could do nothing. He doesn't want to; has no _desire_ to. There's been no time since he moved out here that Mink would ever choose to prevent him from leaving, if he chose to leave, but it's a strange, weird realization that there really is a difference between believing Mink wouldn't stop him, and Mink being unable to.

Aoba crawls awkwardly over Mink's body and grabs the key, twisting it with fumbling fingers in the keyhole in the manacles, starting with Mink's legs. It takes a few tries to get it right, fingers numb and entire body exhausted, but they click off, and he moves to Mink's arms instead.

Mink doesn't try to move or take over until the manacles are off on both sides, have landed on the floor with a loud metallic clunk. And then he draws a slow, deep breath, and rolls over, pulling Aoba into his arms. 

His muscles too must surely be tired from the strain, but he doesn't seem awkward at all, wrapping around Aoba, enveloping him in his scent. It can't be the most comfortable in other ways; Aoba knows all too well that shifting around after someone's come inside you tends to lead to leakage, but Mink doesn't make any noise of complaint and his arms are around Aoba so while he thinks about protesting, he kind of just leaves it at _Whatever, Mink knows what he wants._

"Well?" Mink murmurs against him, after a moment. "Satisfying?"

Aoba feels himself blush and wants to protest, spit out something sarcastic, but he knows what Mink is actually asking. "It doesn't fix everything," he agrees, tired and hoarse, kind of shocked at the sound of his own voice.

"No."

"--But I understand better now," he says, even more quietly. "So... yeah, you know?"

It's not the strongest statement, but Mink seems to understand his meaning, with an agreeable rumble. His arms around Aoba are tight and warm and hard and Aoba couldn't move if he tried, but he doesn't feel like moving yet, so he doesn't ask Mink to let him go.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Overturn (Fanart)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315327) by [DragonReine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonReine/pseuds/DragonReine)




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